


Maybe In Another Life

by they_hear_the_music



Series: One Shot Series: Mad Max 'Verse [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M, Pining, mad max universe, negativity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_hear_the_music/pseuds/they_hear_the_music
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras' feelings towards Grantaire were complicated and Enjolras had absolutely no time for complicated in his life, so he never dwelled on what went through him when he could feel Grantaire's eyes on him, the few times their fingers had accidentally brushed while working or what he had felt the last time Grantaire had gotten hurt on a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe In Another Life

**Author's Note:**

> knowlege from Will You Join In Our Crusade? isn't necersarry though it definitely doesn't hurt either^^

"There you are."

Enjolras lifted his gaze at the familiar voice from the motor he had been checking on. Courfeyrac stood a few feet away from him, his arms crossed before his chest and a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Figures that you'd still be working."

"We're leaving tomorrow, everything needs to be ready," Enjolras told Courfeyrac, turning back to the motor, checking the tubes for holes. "Mistakes-"

"can get us all killed, yeah, yeah." Courfeyrac finished.

Enjolras looked up again to frown at Courfeyrac, expressing how displeased he was with the nonchalant tone his best friend had spoken in. Courfeyrac just grinned at him, though Enjolras knew him well enough to detect the apologetic spark in his eyes.

Enjolras was well aware that a lot of them used humor as their outlet for the constant stress life in the wastelands put on them, but this behavior had always been foreign to him, all this life had ever made him was hard and cold. He barely remembered what it felt like to not be restless, always on edge, always ready to fight. He loved his friends with all his heart, but at the same time he couldn't allow himself to be fully dependent on them. Enjolras was their leader, he was responsible for their safety and their well being and he was the one who would need to function should they ever loose one of them. The only way to be prepared was having to constantly think about the possibility of their deaths and Enjolras found himself incapable of humor with these thoughts on his mind. It was something he would never want to put any of the others through and he had only told Courfeyrac and Combeferre about what being their leader made him. He felt content seeing them happy, seeing them feeling safe in each others company.

"I'll be there once I'm done," he told Courfeyrac.

"Don't be too long," Courfeyrac said. "Or I'm sending 'Ferre." And he left, presumably to snuggle with his boyfriend and girlfriend.

 

When Enjolras joined the Amis at their fire only a few of them were still present and awake. Courfeyrac, Cosette, and Marius just as Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were nowhere to be seen, probably using their last chance to have some privacy and Jehan and Feuilly were already asleep in their bed rolls. Combeferre had his nose buried in one of his books, using the little petroleum lamp Feuilly had build him, that he could fixate above his hand so he could properly illuminate what he was reading. On the other side of the fire Bahorel and Grantaire were quietly talking about something, though they both looked up when Enjolras approached the fire, dropping their conversation.

"Finally, chief," Grantaire said, with the usual mocking tone he used to address Enjolras.

Enjolras gave him a sharp nod as a response. Grantaire had been part of their group for almost five years now and Enjolras was still unsure how to treat him.

"You want some?" Bahorel asked as Enjolras took the seat next to him, lifting his hand that was holding a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid. The smell told Enjolras that it was containing a not insubstantial amount of alcohol.

He shook his head. "I'm good."

At the sound of Enjolras' voice Combeferre lifted his head from his book. "Oh," he said, only now realizing that Enjolras had joined them. "You're here. Good." Combeferre blinked a bit, his eyes readjusting to the darkness around them. "Please sleep soon, Enjolras."

Enjolras nodded. "I will."

When he turned back to the other two he found Grantaire's eyes on him. A familiar tingling went through him until Grantaire averted his gaze, his brows drawn together, his eyes dark. Enjolras followed his example and looked back to the fire as well, crossing his arms before his chest.

"Yeah, I'm going to sleep," Bahorel said after a few minutes of tense silence and got up. "Don't stay up too long."

Grantaire let out a agreeing grunt and soon Bahorel's soft snoring filled the silence at the fire.

Enjolras glanced at Grantaire out of the corner of his eye. He was still staring ahead, the almost empty bottle of alcohol sitting next to his foot and Enjolras knew that even though Grantaire always held grand speeches about how he wasn't drunk enough for all their bullshit, in all the years Enjolras had known him Grantaire had never had a drop of alcohol. Why he still insisted on holding these speeches was a mystery to Enjolras, just like he couldn't understand so much else about the other man. Grantaire was full of contradictions, he was unmotivated in a world where slacking off gets you killed and yet he had somehow survived two years in the wastelands on his own, Grantaire could drag them all down with his melancholy, yet was sometimes the only one capable of cheering someone up. He proclaimed loudly and often the uselessness of their operation yet he stayed and Enjolras both hated and loved him for it.

Enjolras loved all his friends, but Grantaire was different. He didn't love Grantaire more or less than the others, it just had always been different. Enjolras' feelings towards Grantaire were complicated and Enjolras had absolutely no time for complicated in his life, so he never dwelled on what went through him when he could feel Grantaire's eyes on him, the few times their fingers had accidentally brushed while working or what he had felt the last time Grantaire had gotten hurt on a mission.

They didn't get along, Enjolras damning Grantaire's pessimism and Grantaire in response shutting out any attempt at friendship or at least a truce. It frustrated Enjolras, but in a way he was also glad he didn't have to deal with whatever he felt for Grantaire. Especially since Grantaire obviously felt very differently.

Enjolras got up without a good night, unfolding his bed roll and lying down. He closed his eyes and pushed all feelings away, letting sleep take him, rather dealing with his nightmares. Through the haze of sleep he could hear Combeferre going to sleep as well and how Grantaire wandered away, presumably to find some company for the night.

 

Grantaire was the last to join them when they were getting ready for leaving Muffin Town, one of the town's girls trailing after him and Enjolras blended out however their goodbye would look like. He looked ahead into the wastelands feeling the familiar rush of purpose fill him. Here he knew what to do, here he was home, taking the lead of the Amis-colony, through danger and death.

Maybe in another life things would have been differently. He could have been more than the leader of the Amis. He could have been in love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is gonna be an eventual happy ending (I promise!) but for the moment: this.
> 
> Based off of [this AU post](http://they-hear-the-music.tumblr.com/post/121285594004)  
> Thanks go out to my [beta](http://thesewersofparis.tumblr.com) who is the fucking best!  
> I'm here on [tumblr](http://they-hear-the-music.tumblr.com) come and say hi :>


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